


Partytrick

by Stxtic



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album), Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Save Rock And Roll - Fall Out Boy (Album)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-02-27 01:59:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18729415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stxtic/pseuds/Stxtic
Summary: “Hey. Hey, what’s your name, dust angel?” Poison said softly, meeting his eyes.“P-Patrick.”“Alright, Patrick. I don’t know what the fuck’s going on. And I don’t think you do either, and I think maybe we can help each other.”The story of how Party Poison and Patrick Stump became partners in crime.





	1. Covered In Glass

It was quiet. Among all the flashing lights, the chaos and the movement, no sound reached their ears. That was the main thing they noticed.

The barrel of the gun was cold like ice and sharp, digging in under their jaw and forcing their head to slam back against the wall behind them. It forced them to look up at the man holding the gun. They met his eyes.

Scenes flashed in the corner of their vision. Electricity flashing and sparks flying, and familiar faces falling to the ground. They ignored the scenes and kept their eyes locked with his.

They knew what would happen next. It wasn’t hard to figure it out.

The man’s face twisted, cold apathy contorting into a wide, evil grin.

Everything was getting brighter, louder, but somehow there was still only silence. A horribly loud silence, like ringing in their ears, and all they could see was his face.

They took one last shaky breath. And then it happened. They heard the click of the trigger, and their vision filled with white light and pain. And in that moment the silence was broken with a loud blast that shook the world, an ear shattering, all consuming explosion so loud it slammed through their head and rattled their brain inside their skull. So loud that they could feel it as they faded, and it was still reverberating as their vision went to black and their mind filled with silence.

~~~

When Poison opened their eyes, they were staring up into a cloudy night sky. The silence was gone. The blast was still reverberating through their skull, but now it was matched by a head-splitting ringing and behind that, a wailing chorus of sirens.

Fuck. Fuck. Their head was pounding with this numb, staticky ache. Everything hurt.

Where the fuck were they? Party’s thoughts were fuzzy, and they willed their mind to zero in on the moments before they opened their eyes, but all they found was a heavy white fog. They couldn’t think, their head was fucking splitting in half, not to mention they couldn’t hear shit.

All they could hear, faintly, was sirens, and they were getting closer.

The thing is, Party hadn’t lived in the City in a long time, but they still had their lobby rat instincts. Sirens mean you get up and fucking go. But, shit, it didn’t even seem like they could move, with their head buzzing and ringing and their whole body feeling broken like this. They moved their arms and felt the bones grating into place as they lifted their hands over their face. Their palms were covered in blood.

Fuck, what the fuck, there was a ton of broken glass in their hands. What the fuck.

Okay, shit, they were getting distracted, and suddenly their surroundings were lighting up with flashing red and blue. The sirens were louder than ever. They had to go.

They forced themselves to sit up, and their head swam but they pushed through it, letting their vision fade to black for a moment as they got to a standing position. They felt the crunch of glass under their feet but they couldn’t hear anything. That fucking ringing was filling their brain and making their ears numb.

Poison had hoped that once they were up their surroundings would be familiar. They weren’t. It didn’t really matter because they were in full escape mode, and their brain was so fuzzy and staticky anyways. They only really saw what they needed to: the blown out windows of the shop, where the broken glass was scattered over the pavement, and the corner of the building, and the alleyway beside it. An alleyway, dark, dirty hidden from the red and blue lights that filled the air and glittered on the ground. Yeah, that would work.

It would have to. Stumbling, covered in glass and with the blast still ringing in their ears, Poison started running.

~~~

The alleyways were like a maze, but with each step the sirens faded more and more, so Party kept running. They skidded clumsily between brick walls and around corners. They tried to clear their head as they ran, thinking back to that white fog before they had opened their eyes.

Right. The City. The fight. The Girl.

They started to remember the firefight, the way it had all gone so silent all of a sudden. And then the pain, and that bright light and that indescribable sound.

They were so lost in that shaky memory that they didn’t see the man running toward them until they slammed straight into him.

“Fuck!” they cried instinctively as they stumbled back, hearing their own voice echo strangely between their ears.

The man almost fell, but managed to only stumble before righting himself. Poison, meanwhile, was still struggling to catch their balance, and the fact that their head was already spinning didn’t help. The man reached out and put a hand on Party’s arm to steady them. He said something fast and urgent looking, and Party tried for a few seconds to figure it out from context clues before giving up. “Honey, I can’t hear you, like, at all, my head just fucking exploded or something.”

He repeated it, to no effect. Poison stuttered helplessly.

Finally the man seemed to catch on. He grabbed Poison’s hand and said something that they could reasonably assume to be “Run.” And then he took off, pulling Party around the way they had just come and then starting back off through the labyrinthine alleyways.

When they stopped running Poison felt like they were going to pass out. The ringing in their ears was starting to fade, but the pain wasn’t, not to mention the dizziness. And from what they could tell they were now covered in a horrid sticky mixture of sweat and blood. And they still had fucking glass sticking out of their palms and probably elsewhere, and all in all they were fucking miserable.

Their new friend didn’t seem to be much better off. He was holding himself up against the wall with his right hand while his left hand- wait, no, left hook- was clutched to his chest. He was breathing hard and his eyes looked almost wild with panic. And he was muttering to himself, though of course Poison couldn’t hear what he was saying.

“Hey,” they said, as they tried to blink the dizziness away. “Hey, kid.”

He looked up at Poison, still with that panicky look.

“Um. What the fuck just happened?”

The man spoke, and Party could actually hear his voice now. “I d-don’t know- I just had to run, I’m s-sorry-” He was going a mile a minute, almost hyperventilating. Poison took a shaky step toward him.

“Hey, slow down a sec, sweetheart. My ears are blown to shit, it’s hard to hear when you’re going that fast.”

He stopped and started just breathing, which was better, Party supposed. Maybe the kid was bluelined on uppers or some shit, maybe that’s why he was running.

“Where are we?” they continued. “What district is this?”

“D-district?”

“Yeah, this ain’t downtown but I’ve never seen this part of the Lobby.”

He stared at them. “The what? I- I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He sounded so distressed, and he was starting to hyperventilate again. He turned, leaned back and slid down against the wall, making his already small form even smaller.

Poison kind of swayed awkwardly, staring at this small, panicking man in front of them. Then they slowly got down to their knees.

“Hey. Hey, what’s your name, dust angel?” they said softly, meeting his eyes.

“P-Patrick.”

“Alright, Patrick. I don’t know what the fuck’s going on. And I don’t think you do either, and I think maybe we can help each other.”

“Who are you?”

Party was almost surprised to meet anyone who didn’t know their name. But then they remembered that nothing made sense right now. This wasn’t the City and it sure as hell wasn’t the Zones, and they were starting to get the idea it wasn’t the Lobby either.

They swallowed and tried for a reassuring smile. “Name’s Party Poison,” they said. “Leader of the Fabulous Killjoys.”

Patrick didn’t look reassured by that. All things considered, Party didn’t really expect him to. He just kept staring at them and looking almost skeptical.

“So,” Poison said anyways. “Can we do that? Can we help each other?”

“I don’t think you can help me,” Patrick replied almost flatly, wringing his hands as best he could when one of them was a hook.

“Why not?”

“Well, I was trying to quietly get out of the city without any police. And you kind of, uh, blew up a building right next to me. Which wasn’t really helpful.”

Party frowned. “Alright, yeah. Fair. But then why’d you help me get away?”

“I don’t know,” Patrick huffed. “I don’t know what to do. I’m kind of panicking.”

“So am I. Those pigs out there think I bombed a fucking building and also I might have traveled through time.”

Patrick stared up at Poison. Then he said, in a tiny voice, “I think my best friends are dead. And I think I killed them.”

Party blinked. “Oh. Wow, okay, yeah. Yours is worse.”

“I mean, not me, it wasn’t me me. I’m not a killer, I just, I think it’s my fault. I think I was involved.” Patrick clumsily adjusted his fedora with his hook hand. “That’s why I was running. Th- the police, I think they’re after me- they’ve got to be after me, right? If I really did do that, they’d know, they’d find out-”

Poison sighed. “Alright, listen, kid. I can help, okay? Since to be fair I probably did blow up that building. Accidentally, but still. Let me help.”

Patrick blew out a wobbly breath. “Okay. But how?”

Poison grinned, even though they weren’t sure if they should be happy about having convinced a maybe-murderer to cooperate. Although, really, they found it hard to believe that the small, pretty, anxious little man in front of them could kill anyone.

They stood, and then winced as their head throbbed and their vision went dark for a second. Shit, they had almost forgotten about that. Suddenly Patrick was standing with a hand on their shoulder, looking more concerned than what seemed to to be his default.

“I’m fine,” they said, getting their balance.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m shiny, I promise. Come on, sweetheart, let’s find a road without any cops on it.”


	2. We Can Steal This Car If Your Folks Don't Mind

It didn’t take long to find their way to a street, since Patrick seemed to know the place and led the way. As they hurried along, Party looked up at the buildings they passed, becoming more visible under the slightly glowing sky. Tall and dark brick, nondescript, not like the graffitied walls and flickering neon of the lobby or the bright streamlined architecture of downtown. It was weird. Party had never imagined a city could be anything other than the City. They had never imagined that their world would go beyond what they had already known. And yet here they were, somehow.

“Hey, hold on,” Patrick said, stopping in a pool of orange streetlight. They had reached the end of the alleyway maze, and a graciously cop-free street lay in front of them.

Patrick turned and swung his hook at Party, and they jumped back reflexively.

“Oh. Right, sorry, I forgot about the…” he waved the hook awkwardly. “Um. Give me your hands.” He reached forward more slowly and kind of nudged his hook against Party’s wrists, until they showed him their hands. Then he hovered the fingers of his right hand gently over their palms. Most of the glass was gone, but there were cuts and deep scratches all across their hands and a few gritty crystals of broken glass still digging into their skin.

“I don’t know if I should get that glass out, because that’s gonna make it bleed.”

“Take it out,” Party said. “I ain’t driving with glass in my hands.”

Patrick nodded, and set about gingerly pulling out the little glass shards, and then said, “Wait, driving?”

Poison just stared around at the shadowed street, wincing occasionally while Patrick worried at their hands.

By the time he let their wrists go they had found their target, a dented old Ford parked in front of an empty, darkened storefront. “Alright. Let’s go-”

“Wait, turn around.”

They raised an eyebrow, but turned reluctantly, and Patrick started pulling and picking at the back of their jacket.

“Do you know you have shards of glass in you all over?”

“Uh. No? Didn’t really notice.” Which was true. What with the dizziness and the ringing and the broken feeling in all of their bones, the glass hadn’t exactly been at the front of their mind.

“You didn’t notice when you went through a window?”

“Well I wasn’t conscious when I went through it, so-” they were cut off, biting down on their words as Patrick unstuck a particularly deep fragment from their shoulder. “Ow. Fuck. You done?”

They felt Patrick gently brush off the back of their jacket, and then he murmured, “I’m done.”

“Is my jacket all fucked up?”

“It’s not too bad.”

They shrugged the torn up jacket back into place over their torn up shoulders (which hurt like hell now, conveniently). “Thanks, sweetheart. See? We’re helping each other.” They turned as they walked toward the old car, shooting Patrick a grin. He gave an uncertain little half smile in return.

They got to the rusty old vehicle, and Party turned back around to examine it. They ran their fingers along the edge of the door.

“Alright. Give me something to jimmy the door open.”

“We’re stealing a car?”

“Yeah, you got a problem with that? ‘Cause we’re both already fugitives, apparently, so I think that ship has sailed.”

Patrick gave them an uncertain look, and then swallowed and said, “Alright, what do you need?”

“Something pointyish and metal. A crowbar’s what we really need but whatever you can find.”

They turned to the car, examining the locks and the steering column through the window, and then Patrick tapped on them and something was placed in their hand. They looked down at it. It was a hook.

“Holy shit! Is this your fucking hook hand? Did you just detach your fucking hand and give it to me?”

“It’s not my hand,” Patrick said. “And it’s pointyish and metal.”

“I mean. Yeah, but. That’s… it’s weird! That’s, like, your hand.”

“Look, you want to open the car or not?”

Party huffed, and then they looked down at the hook hand, which to be fair wasn’t, like, dirty or dripping blood or anything. They started to pry open the front door of the car.

“It’s not even a hand,” Patrick said softly, gesturing with his wrapped up stump. “Would be great if it was, but it’s just a hook.”

“But hey,” Poison grinned as they pulled the door open. “It worked.”

It didn’t take long for them to get the car running, though if they had any tools other than Patrick’s hook it would have gone quicker. Clawing their way into the inner wiring wasn’t exactly elegant. They could see Patrick watching them the whole time while they worked, this indecipherable expression on his face. “Do you do this a lot?” he asked as they touched two crudely stripped wires, and with a loud spark the engine rumbled to life.

“Hotwire cars? Yeah, but like, who doesn’t commit vehicle theft every once in a while?”

Patrick was just kind of staring at them. Poison sat back in the driver’s seat and revved the engine. “Well, come on, honey, we ain’t got all day. Let’s hit the red line.”

Patrick closed his eyes, and took a wavering breath. And then he crossed to the other side of the car and got into the passenger seat.

“Which way to leave the city?” Poison asked.

Patrick pointed down the street ahead of them. Poison nodded and hit the gas, and the two sped off through the early dawn.

~~~

“So,” they said once the sun was up and they were driving down an empty two lane road outside the city, surrounded by fields and trees and more green than they had seen in their whole life. “You’re saying there’s no BLi here?”

“No? I mean, I don’t know what that is.”

“No Helium Wars?”

“No.”

“Hm. So no killjoys, huh.”

“That’s what you said you are?” Patrick said. “The leader of the Fabulous Killjoys, right?”

“Yeah, unless I’m stuck in this universe where there ain’t any killjoys to lead.”

“But what are Killjoys?”

“Well, you know, we’re like…” they stopped and thought for a second. “We’re, like, the ones who fight back. The rebels against the corporate agenda. A system failure for the masses, antimatter for the master plan. Louder than God’s revolver and twice as shiny.”

Patrick blinked. “…what?”

“Yeah, I don’t know either.”

“Well,” Patrick said obligingly. “It sounds cool.” Then he added, “We’re almost on E.”

Poison looked at the dash. “Shit. There a Pegasus station around?”

“A- wh- a gas station? There should be one in the next town, probably not too far.”

“Do you know where we are?”

“Um. Kind of?” he said, and then looked down sheepishly. “Well, not really. But there’s got to be a gas station around, just keep driving.”

Poison sighed and kept going, scanning their surroundings, hoping that the car wasn’t going to sputter out and die on them. But sure enough, the fields and trees started to give way to small buildings, and before long they were pulling into a gas station.

“Do you have any money?” Patrick asked. Party reached into their pockets and pulled out what they had, a couple of carbons, and handed it to him.

He stared at it. “Um. I don’t… I don’t think I can use this, this looks like monopoly money.”

“Yeah, I figured you’d say that.”

Patrick scrutinized the plastic bills. “Jeez. So you really are from the future, aren’t you? I mean, not that I didn’t believe you before, but…” He held up a bill to the light and squinted at it, and softly sounded out a few of the Japanese syllables.

“日本語を話せますか?” Party asked. Patrick smiled.

“A little. I’m bad at it, though, I keep trying to learn and then giving up.”

They nodded. “私の宇宙で誰もが日本語を話す.”

He thought for a second. “Uh… わかりません? I don’t understand. Sorry, I told you I was bad at it.”

Party smiled and waved a hand dismissively. “It’s fine. I said in my universe everybody speaks Japanese. So, uh, how are we gonna pay if not with my monopoly money?”

Patrick reached into his pocket and pulled out a wallet, and clumsily took out some worn green bills with one hand. “I’ve got this. It’s not a lot but it should be enough for now.” He sighed and shoved the bills back in his pocket, not bothering with the wallet, which he had dropped onto the seat. Then he opened the door and got out. “I’ll go pay. You, uh, probably shouldn’t let people see you, you’re still all… bleeding and stuff.”

“Oh, yeah.” They had actually almost completely forgotten about the fact that their back and face and hands were all cut up and covered in blood.

Patrick stuck his hook hand in his jacket pocket and walked away toward the little building.

Meanwhile, Party figured out how to pop the gas tank, and then got out and just kind of absorbed their surroundings. It was weird. It didn’t feel like a real gas station without the Dead Pegasus branding and the staticky looping Mousekat ads playing on the little TV. It felt like something old and strange, like it should be in a museum.

And, shit, the air was different. All cool and soft, without that dusty desert dryness or that permanent smell of sand and sun and gasoline. That was what really fucked with Poison’s head, because they couldn’t even breathe without being reminded of how far from home they were.

They thought back to home, to Kobra and Ghoul and Jet and Grace. Were the others looking for them? Did they even know Party was gone?

And then they remembered where they had left them. In the middle of a gunfight, surrounded by white lights and glass walls and with enemies on all sides.

They forced themselves not to think about that. Not now. Worrying wasn’t going to help get them home.

Poison was pulled out of their thoughts as Patrick showed back up, carrying a plastic bag.

“The police are looking for you,” Patrick said. “It was on the news. They said you bombed a deli. And destroyed like half a city block. A few people were taken to the hospital.”

“Oh, shit. Are they okay?”

“It said they’re fine now.” He dropped the bag on the roof of the car, reached in and pulled something out and then threw it at Party, who caught it on instinct. It was a plastic wrapped sandwich.

They stared down at the sandwich incredulously. They examined it, turning it over in their hands.

“Is that okay?” Patrick asked. He had pulled out another sandwich and a bag of chips. “I didn’t know what you’d want but I figured you might be hungry.”

They blinked up at him, and then down at the sandwich. Then they unwrapped it and very cautiously took a bite, and they almost couldn’t believe it when it was cold and fresh and didn’t taste like metal. “Holy shit. Holy shit.”

“What?”

“Fucking food. Holy shit, I haven’t had actual food in so long.”

“Why not?”

“Nothing grows in the zones, and all the food from the City’s pumped full of drugs.” They shoved half of their sandwich into their mouth, relishing the fact that they could actually chew it without being assaulted by the taste of slightly expired mystery meat. “Oh my god. I fucking love food.”

Patrick was staring at them. “So what did you eat if you didn’t have food?”

“Dog food, usually.”

He made this horrified face. “Dog food? Are you, like, okay?”

They shrugged. “Eh. You get used to it. Hey, are you gonna finish those chips?”

Patrick quickly pushed the bag of chips over to them. He was still giving them this weird look, all wide eyed and soft and sad. It reminded them of Fun Ghoul, for some reason.

Patrick crossed to the driver’s side and picked up the gas pump while Poison was busy stuffing their face with chips. They let themself be distracted by the food a few moments longer while the tank filled, and then it finished and they both got back in the car.

“We’re still low,” Patrick observed. “But we should be fine for a while, right?”

“I think so,” Party said. “Hey, thanks for getting food for me.”

Patrick shrugged. “Thanks for stealing a car for me.”

“Thanks for almost getting caught by the police for me.”

“Well, that was more because of you, not really for you-”

They laughed. “Well, thanks for forgiving me.” Then they pulled out of the gas station and back onto the road, and rolled down the window. They felt the strange feeling of the cool air, and of being full of actual, decent food. Other than that, they could almost pretend they were in the Trans Am speeding down Route Guano. But suddenly, part of them didn’t really want to.


	3. Not My Fault I'm a Maniac

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw: blood/gore, body horror, emetophobia

“Are you still hungry?”

Poison raised an eyebrow. “Patrick, we just got food.” It couldn’t have been more than an hour since they left the gas station. They were still on the same road.

“I know, but like, if you want more we can stop somewhere else-”

“I’m fine. Stop worrying about me.”

Patrick scoffed. “You tell me you haven’t had any real food in years and I’m not supposed to worry?” he muttered almost to himself. Party laughed.

“Look, I promise I’ll eat lots of real, human food later, okay?”

Patrick gave them a skeptical look. “Okay…” he said, and then turned back ahead, brows furrowed in this adorably pensive expression. And then the car fell back into silence.

Poison turned to Patrick, and opened their mouth to say something, but then they closed it and just stared. He turned and gave them a questioning look and they quickly turned their eyes back to the road.

“What?”

“Nothing,” they murmured. It wasn’t nothing. They had an endless amount of questions, about their situation and about Patrick’s. But they got the feeling that just casually going, “hey, you may or may not have killed a few people, what’s that like?” would be insensitive.

“Seriously, you okay?”

They realized they were staring at him again.

They huffed and shook their head. “Yeah. Sorry, it’s just, this is weird. This whole fucking… fucking thing that’s happening.”

Patrick blew out a shaky breath and nodded.

“And I just… I keep turning and thinking it’s gonna be someone else there.” They realized it was true as they said it.

“Oh,” Patrick said. “Who?”

“My brother. Or one of my friends. I don’t know, it’s weird not having them here.”

He gave this little hum of agreement.

“Shit, I’m sorry, kid, you don’t have to feel sorry for me, I mean, your friends are-”

And then they watched Patrick’s face fall with this sudden pained expression, and they cut themself off. Nice going, dumbass.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry, that’s not-” they sputtered, trying to backpedal and get their foot out of their mouth. “That was so fucking- I didn’t mean- I- fuck.” They sighed and shrunk down in their seat. Why were they like this. “I’m sorry, that was fucking stupid. I’m just gonna stop talking. Let’s just listen to the radio or something.” They reached over and turned the radio on.

“No!” Patrick yelped, and slammed the volume all the way down to zero.

“Woah, alright, we don’t have to.”

“I’m sorry,” Patrick said, putting his face in his hand. “It’s just… this thing that happens to me. It’s like I’m possessed or something. I- I lose control, and then I black out and I wake up somewhere else. And I’m not sure, but it seems like it happens whenever I hear music.”

Poison blinked. “Seriously?”

“I think so.”

They nodded slowly. “Alright. No music then.”

“Do you think I’m crazy?” he murmured into his hand.

“Honey, my current working theory is that I’m a time traveler from another dimension, so I don’t really have room to call you crazy.”

Patrick was silent, and after a moment Poison turned to him. He was still crumpled in on himself and now he was breathing hard.

“Hey, you okay?”

“Pull over.”

“What? Why-”

“Poison, pull over right now,” he said urgently, voice cracking, and Poison pulled off the road.

Almost before they fully stopped he was stumbling out of the car and onto his knees. “Patrick, what’s going on?” Poison asked, but before he could answer Patrick retched and spat thick red onto the ground. Poison shut their mouth and scrambled out of the car.

Patrick was making these horrible choking, gagging sounds, and then something was coming out of his mouth, something long and red and moving, what the fuck, and if they had been lightheaded before they suddenly had to grab the car door for support as they watched the squirming thing force itself from Patrick’s throat. They wanted to look away, they knew Patrick probably wanted them to look away, but they couldn’t, they were petrified.

After a few excruciatingly long seconds, a snake, dark red and ringed and covered in blood, dropped into the grass and slithered away.

“What the fuck,” Poison breathed out in shock. For a moment they were still frozen, staring at where the snake had disappeared in the grass. And then Patrick made this weak, pained sound and wobbled, and they dropped to their knees to catch him.

Patrick fell into their arms. He was shaking, taking big sputtering gulps of air, his fingers twisted into Party’s jacket. “Hey, its alright,” they whispered, knowing that it wasn’t. “You’re okay, baby, it’s over now.” They held him and cast a horrified glare at the ground around them, a little afraid that the thing would come back.

“I- w-why-” they sputtered hoarsely. “Why is this h-happening to m-me?”

“I don’t know, kid,” Poison said softly. “I really don’t know.”

They hushed him and stroked his hair as the two rocked back and forth, clinging to each other.

Finally, Patrick spoke. “Tell me you saw it,” he stammered, rough and breathless. “Tell me I’m not crazy.”

“Yeah,” they replied. “I saw it.”

“Oh, god,” Patrick nearly sobbed. He dropped his head onto Party’s chest “Oh god, oh fuck, what… what is my life?”

“Look, Patrick, let’s just get back in the car, okay?” they said, because they couldn’t think of anything else to do in response to somebody coughing up a snake.

Patrick sighed and nodded, but made no move to get up.

“You don’t have to help me,” he said wearily. “This- you- you’re already trying to get back to your, like, home planet or whatever. You don’t have to-”

“Patrick,” Poison said. “I’m helping you.”

He sat up. “But why? I already told you I may have killed multiple people, and if that wasn’t enough I just vomited up a fucking snake. Why aren’t you running away?”

“I am running away, and you’re running with me. Okay?”

“But-”

“Patrick. I’ve seen shit. I’ve killed people. You’re not scaring me off, and you’re not gonna just sit here and deal with this…. this curse or whatever alone.”

“You think it’s a curse?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know what it is. We’ll figure it out, okay?”

Patrick looked at him uncertainly, and then let out a long wavering sigh and nodded. And then he shifted and the two of them stood and went back to the car.

“The snake…” Patrick said breathlessly. “I- I’ve seen it before. It’s a message, I think.”

“From who?” Party sat down and kind of hovered a hand awkwardly over Patrick’s shoulder, for… comfort? Support? What? They didn’t know.

“The people who did this to me,” he said, “who turned me into this. I remember when it happened, there was this… this, like, table, and all this food and that, that fucking snake.” He shuddered. “God, I’m not even afraid of snakes but I never want to see one again.”

“Me neither,” agreed Party. They watched as he leaned his head against the window and closed his eyes. “Are you alright? Maybe we should, like, find a doctor.”

“A hospital would just turn us in,” Patrick said.

“At least somewhere to rest? A flop for the night, you know? Unless you want to sleep the car.”

Poison would be fine with sleeping in the car, of course. They spent practically every other night huddled for warmth in the Trans Am, they were used to it, but they got the feeling Patrick wasn’t. And the guy had just… well, he should have a proper place to sleep.

“But we don’t have money,” Patrick replied.

“Eh. Shouldn’t be too hard to come across.”

~~~

It wasn’t. After driving a little longer they found their way to a motel, and then it was just a matter of finding the right pocket to pick. Patrick had been kind of ambivalent about the process but Poison promised they hadn’t taken all of that random guy’s money. Just enough to pay for one night in one room.

“Wait,” Patrick said as they were about to go into the motel, turning to Poison. He looked them up and down for a moment, raising an eyebrow.

“What?”

“You’re just so…” he made this ambiguous gesture in Party’s direction, and after a pause said, “Maybe you should cut your hair. And dye it something less eye catching.”

Poison’s eyes went wide, as they scoffed and shook their head. “No. No way, fuck that. I- I couldn’t, that’s my fucking colors, I couldn’t just-”

“Alright,” Patrick said. “I know. Colors are important, I remember you said that.”

They nodded.

“But come on, Poison, you’re like a neon sign. Um. Here, how about this…”

Patrick took off his fedora, reached up, and settled it down on Party’s head so it covered most of their hair. He adjusted it a little, tucked a few strands of their long hair under the hat, and then took a small step back.

Party smiled. “Do I look cute?”

“Yeah,” Patrick breathed. And then he coughed and stammered, “I mean. Uh. D-don’t go hanging around police stations or anything, but that might do the trick, mostly.”

They laughed. “Alright. Then come on, sweetheart, I wanna sleep.”

They opened the door and stepped in, and then froze. Tinny, staticky music was floating through the lobby.

“I think I left something in the car,” Patrick stammered too loudly as he spun back around. “You can check us in, right?” Before Party could answer he was hurrying away, and the door was swinging shut.

Poison blinked, stared at where Patrick had disappeared, and then turned back to the room. It was empty, other than the kid behind the front desk, who was eyeing them uninterestedly and snapping their gum.

They walked up to the desk, suddenly aware that they had never been inside a motel that wasn’t abandoned before. They glared for a moment at the radio on the table behind the desk before refocusing themself. “Uh. We need a room.”

“Single or double,” the kid intoned.

“What?”

“One bed or two?”

“Um.” Party stared back toward the door. Would Patrick have a problem sharing a bed?

The kid blew a bubble impatiently.

No, Patrick would probably say to get the cheapest thing, otherwise Poison would have to resort to thievery sooner rather than later. “Single?” they said kind of hesitantly, and then said, “yeah. Single.”

Because of the cost. Not because of how cold and lonely and completely alien the idea of having an entire bed to themself sounded.

“That’s sixty for tonight,” desk kid said, and Party pulled out their stolen bills and worked out sixty, and handed it over.

Besides, worst case scenario Party could just sleep on the floor.

The kid handed them a key, and at the same time the music faded and the radio went to commercial, thank the Witch. “I’m gonna go get… him…” Poison said unnecessarily, and then they turned and hurried back out to the parking lot.

Patrick was standing right outside, leaning against the brick wall with his eyes closed and his hands in his pockets.

“Come quick,” they said, making him jump a little as he looked up. “The music’s off but it’ll come back.”

He nodded and followed them back in, and the kid pointed toward the hallway and said “room number three.” They made their way across to the room as quickly as they could, and the music stayed off.


	4. Drunk On Rose Water

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw: alcohol

Inside the room, as soon as the door shut Patrick started pacing back and forth, breathing quick and hard and shallow. Poison sat down on the bed and then watched Patrick, raising an eyebrow in concern. “Hey. You okay?”

“Y-yeah, yeah I’m just-” He cut himself off, pulling in a hissing breath through his teeth and scrubbing his hand over his face. “Fuck. It feels so weird. It’s like… like there’s something trying to get out of me.”

Poison opened their mouth and went to stand, and Patrick quickly said, “Not literally, not like the snake.” And Poison nodded in relief and sat down.

Patrick continued. “It’s just this feeling, this energy, and it’s just so weird, ugh!” He gave this soft little scream and went over and put his head against the wall.

Poison watched, concern growing. “You should sleep. Try to calm down.”

“I can’t,” Patrick said. He turned and leaned back against the wall. “I can’t with this feeling I have. It’s like caffeine. But, like, way too much, like when you feel like you’re gonna throw up and your eyes hurt.”

Poison sighed and nodded, intimately familiar with the effects of caffeine. They stood and started to walk around the room kind of aimlessly, like the cure to extreme music-induced discomfort would just appear in the corner or the coat closet if they looked.

It didn’t, but there was one of those… those things, Poison didn’t know what they were called. The little refrigerators they used to have in hotels. Or rather did have in hotels, in this universe where hotels and refrigerators were both things that existed.

They opened it and found a few bottles in disarray, and picked up a bottle of clear liquid. They examined the label. Which was pointless, considering they knew fuck all about types of alcohol, other than desert moonshine and that shit they make in the Lobby that tastes like gasoline.

It looked alcoholic, which was good enough for them. They walked over to Patrick and held it out to him.

After a moment he opened his eyes, glanced at the bottle, and then squeezed his eyes shut again like he was sensitive to the light. “Do we have money for that?”

“Yeah, probably,” Party said. “And if not we can just fill it with water and put it back.”

“You know it’s,” he looked at the clock. “Not even nine a.m..”

Poison shrugged. “I have time travel jetlag so it doesn’t count. And you vomited up a snake. You need a drink.”

Patrick gave a long wavering sigh and took the bottle.

~~~

Not long later the two were sitting crosslegged on the bed, and the bottle was mostly empty. Poison was slumped over onto their elbow and watching Patrick sway kind of fuzzily in front of them. His eyes looked lost, like there was some kind of puzzle in the tacky pattern of the bed sheets. It reminded Poison of Jet Star for some reason.

“I miss my friends,” they said softly. They paused for a moment and then said, “And… I know your friends are dead and I’m sorry and this ain’t half of what you gotta deal with, but-”

“It’s okay,” Patrick said, the bottle swishing hollowly in his hands as he rocked back and forth. “You don’t have to act like you’re fine just ‘cause things could be worse.”

“But things are worse, for you. Your friends are dead.” Patrick was waving the bottle in front of their face and they took it, took a drink, and scoffed. “Shit, my friends are probably dead too. You know where we were before I… fuckin’ exploded or whatever?”

“Where?”

“In the middle of a firefight. And I was up against a wall with a gun to my head, and-” They sat up suddenly, wobbling for a second, a horrible thought floating into their mind. “Shit, Patrick, wh- what if I’m dead? Or what if I’m in a fuckin’ coma or something? If I got sh-shot… What if this is all in my head? Fuck.” They dropped their head into their hands, slumping over onto the bed again.

“It’s not. You’re not.” Patrick said quickly. “Don’t say that. You’re scaring yourself.”

“Damn fuckin’ right,” they mumbled, because they were fucking scared.

“Hey, Party. Look at me.”

They sat up and looked at Patrick, who was tilting in front of them like he was trying not to fall into their lap.

“This isn’t a dream,” he said as evenly as he could manage. “Okay? You’re here. Really. You’re not dead, you’re not in a coma.”

Poison stared into Patrick’s eyes. His eyes were blue with little flecks of gold, they reminded Poison of the sky at dusk.

Patrick lifted one hand from the bed, and because that was his only hand he immediately fell forward. Party put their hands up and caught him, those soft blue eyes inches from their face. Patrick blinked kind of dizzily before getting his balance, and then he lifted his hand, this time successfully, and brushed a few strands of hair away from Party’s face. “This is real,” he said softly. “I promise.”

“How do you know?”

And for a moment they just stared at each other, eyes blurry and swimming, and then Patrick suddenly leaned forward and kissed them.

They wobbled back as he fell into their arms, and they were still trying to get their balance when he pulled back.

He blinked at them, tilting his head like a puppy. “Doesn’t it feel real?”

They coughed and cleared their throat but their voice still came out squeaky as they said, “I couldn’t tell. Do it again.”

He laughed, and then his lips were on theirs again, tasting like salt and vodka, and his hand was in their hair. And, fuck, it didn’t feel real. But not really in a bad way, not right now.

Patrick pulled away again, and they made this desperate little noise in the back of their throat and clung to him. And then they blinked and let go and looked down sheepishly at their hands.

“S'okay. I’m not goin’ anywhere,” Patrick murmured, dropping his head onto Poison’s shoulder. He was heavy pressed against them, almost nuzzling into their neck.

“You should go to sleep,” they said, stroking a hand absently through his hair. As they said it, their own exhaustion hit them. They had spent last night fighting and running and traveling between dimensions, and if that hadn’t been enough they felt all sluggish and tipsy now. And this bed was more comfortable than any of the cots at the Diner, not to mention Patrick’s warm weight against their chest.

“Patrick,” they mumbled softly. “Patrick, I wanna sleep.”

Patrick sat up after a moment, and then shifted and flopped over. He pulled Poison down onto the pillow next to him. “Sleep,” he said. He blinked at them with the eye that wasn’t buried in the pillow, and clumsily brushed their hair out of their face again. “C'mon. Go to sleep.”

“But… shouldn’t we keep watch? What about Scarecrows?”

Patrick hushed them, giggling a little. “There aren’t any scarecrows here. We’ll be fine.” He pet their hair softly. “You’re tired. Sleep.”

No Scarecrows. Right. No such thing as Scarecrows in this universe. They nodded hesitantly.

“Goodnight Party Poison,” Patrick just barely whispered, and then he closed his eyes and went all soft and heavy against the pillow, his breathing slow and even.

“Night, dust angel,” Party said, before their eyes got too heavy and they couldn’t help but let themself drift off.

~~~

When they woke up, it took them a second to remember where they were. Everything was so soft and warm, they were so obviously not in the Trans Am, and even their cot in the Diner would be stiff and cold and not nearly as comfortable. Where the fuck were they, the City?

They reluctantly opened their eyes, and then the memories floated back. Oh, right. Mysterious explosion, alternate dimension, helpful stranger.

Honestly they had expected it all to be gone when they woke up. They’d find Ghoul shaking them awake and telling them not to fall asleep in the sun, you know how that fucks with your head. And they’d tell him about the crazy dream they’d had, the fight and the explosion and the cute little man with the missing hand, and he’d be all 'told you so’, and then they’d both go about their day like nothing had happened, because it hadn’t.

But this was what they had been talking about this morning, wasn’t it? Whether any of this was real. And Patrick’s argument had been pretty convincing.

Fuck. Fuck. Alright, that had happened. Let’s just assume all of this is real, and this morning had actually happened.

Either way they needed to get up. The sky outside the window was dark and the clock showed it was past 7 pm. They sighed and stretched and then pulled themself up off the pillow.

Patrick was still curled up next to them, asleep on top of the covers. Poison slid off the bed trying not to disturb him. They could let him sleep, he needed it. Meanwhile they just needed to assess the situation, make sure they were safe for now.

They walked over to the window, pulled aside the curtain, and looked outside to the parking lot, and then their blood turned to ice.

“Patrick!” they hissed, ducking down below the windowsill. “Patrick, wake up!”

“Nnn,” Patrick whined. They scrambled over to the bed, keeping low even though the curtain was closed, and shook him awake.

Patrick opened his eyes and blinked up at them for a moment. “Wha…? What is it, Party?” he murmured thickly.

“There’s police outside and they’re taking our car!”

Patrick sat bolt upright. “Shit! Wh-what do we do?”

“We get the fuck out of here.”

Patrick rolled off the bed and hurried to the window, and peeked through the curtain. Red and blue flashes sliced into the dim light of the room. He ducked under the windowsill. “Holy smokes, they’re right out there! Are you sure we can’t just hide in here?”

“No way,” Party said. “The car’s out there, they know we’re in here. Only thing we can do is run.” They looked around the room and spotted the fedora laying next to the bed. They hurried over and grabbed it.

“But how are we gonna run without a car?” Patrick’s voice was high and fast and cracking. He slumped back against the wall under the window, almost hyperventilating.

Party took a wobbly breath to slow their own rushing adrenaline, and then hurried back over to Patrick and crouched down in front of him.

“Patrick, look at me. We’re gonna be okay, I promise, but we have to go right now. All you have to do is follow me. I’m gonna get us out of here. You trust me?”

After a moment he nodded.

“Alright.” They held their hand out to him. “Give me your hand.”

“Like… my real hand, or- ?”

They sighed. “Goddamnit, Patrick, just come on.” They grabbed his hand (his real hand) and pulled him up off the ground, and the two ran out of the room.

In the hallway, Poison made quick work of tying their hair up and putting the hat on over it. Then they examined their surroundings. They obviously couldn’t just go through the front, but they figured there would have to be a back door somewhere around here. They started off deeper into the row of doors, away from the lobby, and Patrick followed.

It wasn’t too long before they found a fire exit, and then they were outside in the cool evening air. Poison’s guesswork navigation had been right; they were behind the building, hidden from the cops in the parking lot out front.

See, this almost felt like home. Running and hiding, fighting back or slipping through the shadows, trying to survive when the whole world is after you. It was a cat and mouse game in which Poison had years of practice. Of course, being the mouse was always less than ideal, and they liked it better when they had a car, and gun, and three other people watching their back. But they could make do.

“Where do we go?” Patrick asked breathlessly. He was still holding Party’s hand in a white knuckled grip, staring around with wide eyes through the darkness.

Poison pointed ahead. “The trees. We can hide in there and circle around back to the road.”

Patrick nodded, and then they both ran forward toward the trees, trying to balance speed and stealth. They didn’t stop until they were surrounded by darkness, well past the edge of the forest.

When they did finally stop, Poison kind of froze, blinking as their eyes adjusted to the darkness, and it was like they were on an alien planet.

“Holy shit. Holy shit,” they murmured, staring at dense foliage surrounding them.

Poison had often heard from Ghoul how strange it was transitioning from the inner City to the desert. A big part of it was just the terrain, he said. When you were so used to the cramped, claustrophobic closeness of the City it was hard to adjust to the miles of flat land, open skies and distant horizons.

This was the exact opposite of that.

“What’s wrong?” Patrick said as Party spun around in a circle, staring shiftily into the woods around them.

“It’s just… so many trees,” they stammered. They had never seen so many plants all in one place, and yeah, they knew what a forest was in theory, but they had never expected to actually find themself in one. It was so dense and dark, everything was so close and it felt like it was getting closer. It was fucking with their mind, there were just too many places to hide. And who knows what could be hiding in here, when it was so crowded, there were so many shadows, so much darkness, everything was just so close-

“Hey, Party, come on,” said Patrick’s voice, cutting through their racing thoughts. “Don’t freak out. I’m supposed to be the one freaking out, you’re supposed to be the one getting us out of here.”

They turned to face him. He was giving them them a wobbly little smile, squeezing their hand again.

“Yeah,” they said. They cleared their throat to keep their voice steady. “Of course, honey, it’s fine. I’m fine. We have to go.”

Patrick nodded. His eyes were big and shining, the only thing Party could see in this stifling darkness.

“Alright, we have to go,” they muttered again. “W-we have to go… goddamnit, I can’t see shit.” They scrubbed the hand that Patrick wasn’t holding over their face, pressing their eyes shut until they saw stars. “Okay,” they said finally, pointing to the right. “We have to go that way. Parallel to the road.”

They opened their eyes to look at him, and he nodded again. He was still smiling a little, shakily. They managed an uncertain half smile in return, and then they both turned and started off through the darkness.


	5. After Me, After You

“Party, we have to keep going.”

Poison looked down. They had been staring up at what few shards of sky they could see through the dense canopy. It wasn’t much, but it was better than looking forward through the suffocatingly thick woods. Ahead, they could barely see Patrick’s face. His eyes were just two glittering pinpoints.

“I know,” they said, pulling their attention back down to focus on him. “I know, I’m coming.”

“You don’t have to look. You can close your eyes or something. Just keep walking.”

They huffed. “I’m fine.”

“You seem kind of not fine. Which is okay, but-”

“I’m fine,” they insisted. “I was just… checking… the stars. You know, to navigate.”

Patrick looked up at the clouded, starless sky. “…right. Well I hope you know where we are. And where the police are.”

“The police ain’t gonna catch us,” they said. “We’re far enough, and even if they found us we could probably take them, right?”

It was dark, but they could see Patrick staring at them strangely. “What?”

“You’re so weird,” Patrick said. “You’re not afraid of the police who are hunting us down, but you’re afraid of trees.”

“I ain’t afraid of fucking trees!” Poison straightened defiantly, and then suddenly some horrible, cold, gnarled monster claw was scratching at the back of their neck, and they shrieked and jumped into Patrick’s arms.

As they caught their breath, they realized that, A) they had not been snatched up by a demonic forest dwelling monster, B) they were in Patrick’s arms, and C) Patrick was laughing at them.

“Poison, baby, it’s just a branch!” Patrick stammered through his laughter. “You’re tangled in a branch, calm down.”

“Stop laughing at me!” They realized they were clinging to Patrick’s shoulders, and tried to take a step back but the claw scraped coldly on the back of their head, yanking their hair.

“Alright, alright, just stand still,” he chuckled. He reached up and started to pull the snarled branches from Poison’s hair. “You’re getting more tangled.”

They scowled bitterly as Patrick pulled at their hair. “That doesn’t count. That one attacked me.”

Patrick was still kind of giggling, and it was decidedly not cute considering Poison had just had a near death experience. He bent down and picked something up off the ground and dusted it off. “Here,” he said, and put the fedora on Poison’s head. “Now come on. We really have to go.”

He grabbed Poison’s hand and started off, and Poison sighed and followed.

“I think we’re far enough,” they said after another few minutes of tramping through the darkness. “We should try to get back to the road.”

“Are you sure?” Patrick turned and squinted through the darkness behind them. “Or are you just trying to get out of the forest?”

“No, I’m serious. Those pigs ain’t tracking us anymore. We’d hear them, right?”

They both stopped and listened. The forest was loud, full of crackling branches and ghostly wind and all kinds of noises from animals that Poison had only heard about in stories. But there were no voices, no footsteps.

“Alright. Which way’s the road?”

Poison looked around. “I- I… fuck. I don’t fucking know.”

“Alright, just close your eyes and think.”

“How the fuck is that gonna-”

“You did it before. Come on, close your eyes. Think.”

They took a wavering breath and closed their eyes.

“Alright… alright, we’ve been going diagonal, we have to turn around.”

“How can you tell?”

I don’t know, I just can,“ Poison said. "Spend enough time running around in an empty desert, you know which way you’re going.”

“You want to turn around? What if we end up back at the hotel?”

“Not all the way. Just a little, just… dammit, we have to get out of this forest.”

“Okay. Then let’s turn around.”

Poison opened their eyes. Patrick’s face was inches from theirs, eyes sparkling and teeth barely visible in a little reassuring half smile. They nodded.

With Patrick’s hand in theirs, Poison started picking through the dense foliage, cringing away from crunching underbrush and snagging thorns. They stared solidly ahead and tried to bore a hole through the darkness with their eyes. It didn’t work, and they squeezed Patrick’s hand tighter.

“Hey, Poison?” Patrick said after a few minutes.

“Yeah?”

“I have a question.”

“Ask away, sweetheart.”

Patrick was silent for a second, and then slowly said, “You know last night… or, well, this morning I guess? When we…”

Poison swallowed. “Yeah?”

“And I…”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah…”

Patrick fell silent. Poison hadn’t thought that the forest could actually be more uncomfortable than it already was. They were wrong.

They tried to think of something witty to say but nothing came to mind. Fuck. They had been effectively not thinking about that, letting it float in the back of their mind all blurry and glowing and abstract, unanalyzed and unquestioned. And then they had entered a forest and they had been distracted enough that they almost forgot about it.

The silence was getting as thick as the darkness. One of them was going to have to say something eventually, right?

“Um,” Patrick faltered. “Did you… was that… were you…” he cut himself off with an awkward little laugh. “Um. Nevermind.”

Thank the Witch, Poison thought to themself, but for some reason they said, “What? Say it.”

“No, nevermind.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Just forget it. I’ll ask you later.”

Poison opened their mouth to say something, but then they sighed and let the silence settle back in. It was pointless, trying to drag it out of him. Especially when it was probably an apology, an excuse, an it-didn’t-mean-anything, and they didn’t think they wanted to hear it.

After a while, Patrick spoke. “Um, Party? I’m not sure but I don’t think this is right.”

Poison broke their forward focus and looked around, and realized the forest had grown thinner. And there was light now; a sparkling spatter of windows and streetlamps and neon signs that twinkled between the trees.

“Shit,” Party breathed. “You know what city this is?”

“No.”

“Well, should we turn around?”

“I mean,” Patrick sighed thoughtfully, peering ahead through the trees. “We were gonna end up in the city anyways, right? We couldn’t just live out on the road.”

Well, they could. “I mean, I guess,” Poison said. And they were eager to get out of the forest. But a city would almost be worse. “Alright. Let’s go, then.”

The two trudged on, and the forest grew thin, and soon they were crossing the tree line onto a hill looking out on a glittering little city.

“Fuck,” Party sighed, feeling like they could actually breathe again, taking in the wet, crackling cool air. “Fucking finally. I hate forests.”

The two started down the incline, slipping and skidding and stumbling, still holding each other’s hands for balance. Soon they were standing on pavement, staring ahead into the rows of boxy brick buildings. It reminded Poison of when they had first appeared in this world, which wasn’t nearly as long ago as it felt now.

“Where to?” Patrick asked.

Poison shrugged. “Fuck if I know. This isn’t my universe. Maybe we should find another car.”

“Or a bus stop. Or a subway station.”

They huffed and smiled. “You with your ethics.”

With that the two started into the new city, and honestly, Party was only slightly less confused than they had been the first time.

~~~

They had gotten out of the alleys and onto the empty city streets when the first few drops fell. They had felt that weird sharp crackle in the air, a telltale sign, but the air was so different here that they couldn’t be sure. Then Patrick had looked up at the starless sky and said “hm,” a little warily, and then the first little drops had splattered onto the pavement.

Party gasped and looked up, and tiny raindrops landed on their face. They held out their hand, and caught the sparkling beads of water. “Holy shit, Patrick, look.”

Patrick raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? It’s raining,” he said.

“It’s raining,” they repeated emphatically. The drizzle was already picking up, and Patrick was headed toward the awning of a nearby store. Poison stared up through the sparkling air.

It had been far, far too long, since it had last rained in the desert. And even then, that was barely a sprinkle and what had fallen was acid rain, corrupt with years of chemicals, warm and too bitter to be of much use. It stung your eyes and mouth and left a gritty, slimy residue on everything.

This was nothing like that. This was cool and clear, and left a soft, clean smell in the air.

They took Patrick’s fedora off and let the water wash the dust from their hair, laughing breathlessly. “Patrick, don’t hide! Come play in the rain!”

“Yeah, okay, Gene Kelly,” Patrick called sarcastically. Poison didn’t know who Gene Kelly was and it didn’t matter. They kicked at a shimmering puddle and watched the spray of droplets bounce onto the asphalt. The dampness was creeping through their torn jacket and chilling them, making their fingers sting, but they didn’t really care.

Patrick was watching them, expression amused and concerned. “Poison, you’re soaking wet.”

“I know!” they shouted back gleefully.

Patrick laughed and shook his head. “Come here. You’re gonna get sick.”

“I ain’t gonna get sick from water,” they said, bouncing toward the awning.

Patrick sighed, and then darted out from the awning to grab Poison’s hand. They pouted and only resisted for a moment before they let themself be pulled back under the cover.

Patrick looked Poison up and down, and raised an eyebrow. “You’re shivering,” he said.

“I’m fine,” they smirked, trying not to chatter their teeth because goddamnit, they were cold. Being completely drenched was a lot less of a relief when you weren’t in a desert.

“You need to dry off and warm up,” Patrick said. He reached up and brushed aside the hair plastered limply over Party’s face. “You’re all wet, you’re gonna get pneumonia. Or hypothermia. Come on, let’s go inside somewhere.”

As Party stood shivering and giggling breathlessly, Patrick started pulling off his leather jacket.

“Hey, s-stop that. I ain’t that c-cold. P-put your jacket back on.”

“You’re shaking.”

“I’m f-fine.”

Patrick huffed and shrugged his jacket back up, and Poison smiled smugly until suddenly they were pulled into Patrick’s arms.

“The fuck?” they squeaked. Their face was inches away from his.

“You got to play in the rain, Poison, now can we go somewhere dry? I don’t want you to get sick.” He was holding them tight like he was trying to hug the warmth back into them, staring up at them with earnest.

They swallowed thickly, and then grinned. “Alright, sweetheart, I’m coming.”

Patrick smiled a little before he turned, keeping one arm around Poison and rubbing their shoulder. “You’re so weird,” he murmured under his breath, and Poison laughed. “There might be a subway station up ahead if we keep going further into the city. Then we won’t need to steal a car.”

Poison nodded, and leaned into Patrick’s shoulder. And okay, yeah, the rain was fun but maybe the safety and shelter of the awning and the warmth of Patrick’s arm around them was pretty shiny, too.


End file.
